Pastoral Genocide

Click For Big
October 5, 2008, 12:39 am
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The oldest man in the world had once, in his youth, considered himself a photographer. In his age and in his wisdom, however, he had come to understand that he was not a photographer. He had sometimes seen things, things he had sometimes wished to share with others. But that, alone, did not make him a photographer. It made him an old man who had once been a young man. He knew this. In his old age, his mind wandered and he sometimes thought of himself as a fisherman. That was a good thought. He thought about the ocean and boats and nets pregnant with fish. He thought of great catches and the power of aggregation. He thought about the axiology of it all and he wondered if fish had souls. He wondered if he had a soul. He thought about killing a soul to nourish a soul. He thought about a million fragments of a million memories and he wondered about collectivity. He wondered what happened to the 4 x 5 photographs he had taken and treasured as a young man. And then, he got tired and fell asleep amidst the operatic bustle of assisted living.


September 1, 2008, 5:49 pm
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Cincinnati to Dayton to Columbus to Detroit to Des Moines to Denver to Grand Junction to Las Vegas to San Diego. And, a lot of places in between.

Walk Into the Light
August 6, 2008, 8:18 pm
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Look, I’ve been out and about. I’ve been around, just not around here. That’s how it goes, sometimes. In a week, I’m turning in my old life for a new one and putting 2,000 miles between myself and my past. Surely, an act of uncompressed cowardice. But that’s ok. As Mailer once said, “the poor are the great voyagers. There are always new businesses, new jobs, new places to live, new expectations evolving into old familiar failures.” In the moments before familiarity towers above us, however, everything is new. And that’s all I really want; everything to be different, somehow. I’m not asking for things to be either better or worse, just not the same. Failure is the expectation and the hope.

The logistical reality of my diaspora means I’ll be driving across this country, from east to west. In doing so, I’m going to chronicle this nation in whatever way emerges to me. I cannot make any promises in regards to content or color or voice or pace. I can promise you it will be remarkable.

Volume I -1:06:30
March 3, 2008, 5:33 am
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(1) French Teen Idol – The Longest Night (2) Helios- Bless This Morning Year (3) DeVotchka – Do You Think There’s A Heaven (4) Mogwai – Moses I Amnt (5) Mono – Rainbow (6) Appleseed Cast – A Place in Line (7) Yndi Halda – Illuminate My Heart (8 ) Brain Eno – 2-1 (9) Eluvium – There Wasn’t Anything (10) Sigur Ros – Vaka (11) Telephone Jim Jesus – Convertable Stingray (12) God is an Astronaut – Coda


(Mis) Conception
March 3, 2008, 3:24 am
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The British Raj rises only sirenically from the dusty annuals of civilized history. In the wrought iron tradition of progress, the Romans cut first and deepest. Non-linear in both shape and function, the British arrival was defined by the disorderly omnipresence of God. As with all things, however, there was order buried slightly beneath the burden of breathing and dying: beginnings breed circumstances which breeds departure from the core. Things ebb and flow outside the chaotic mess of pedestrian existence. A bigger – and, perhaps, more complete – picture emerges through time. In India’s case, the desire for kunyit’s earthy bitterness spectacularly devolved into 60 million Maruti 800’s angrily poisoning the atmosphere.